


Making Do

by SylvanWitch



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Future Fic, Growing Old Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-08 01:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21467704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanWitch/pseuds/SylvanWitch
Summary: Turns out getting blown up, tossed around, shot, knocked down, and punched out wasn’t great for the human body.Or, how Danny and Steve make love and make do when they're old(er).
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117
Collections: Spicy Advent - Multi-fandom Porn Advent Calendar 2019





	Making Do

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this story, with which I took some liberties, was: "Until suddenly you give me a smile."

They bought the stools for the kitchen when Danny started having trouble getting up out of a standard kitchen chair. This way, he could slide onto his seat as smoothly as he slid pancakes onto Steve’s plate, and if he had to get up in a hurry—with his prostate, that was a likelihood—he wouldn’t have any trouble.

He’d long since given up being proud about these accommodations. Danny was too happy they’d lived this long to complain—much—about the consequences of old age.

Turns out getting blown up, tossed around, shot, knocked down, and punched out wasn’t great for the human body. Some mornings, Danny felt every single one of the indignities his flesh had ever suffered.

They did their best to compromise with their aches and pains, and neither of them had lost his gift for finding silver linings.

For example, the stools had only been around a day or so when they discovered that if Steve was sitting on one of them and Danny was standing, they were almost eye-level, which made a few of their favorite activities less stressful on their aging bones and joints.

They hadn’t had vertical sex of any kind in years, not after Steve, in pursuit of a murder suspect, had ruptured three disks when he’d fallen from a second-story balcony and landed on his back on top of the suspect’s Range Rover.

The ensuing surgeries and PT had gone a long way to helping him lead an active life for an average guy, but since Steve had never been average, the adjustments had been painful—especially when he’d realized he could no longer manhandle Danny in the shower or the hallway the way they both liked.

The first time Steve had come up against the restrictions of his “new normal,” Danny had said, “C’mon, babe,” fingertips ghosting over Steve’s surgery scars. “It’s no big deal.”

But he’d seen in Steve’s eyes how he’d taken the change, and he’d watched helplessly as Steve had grieved the loss of the body he’d once had and the things he’d been able to do with it.

That had been twenty years or more ago, and they had, of course, found their way around Steve’s limitations—and Danny’s.

Two knee replacements and infinite miles on the recumbent cycle on the lanai had made it possible for Danny to spend some quality time on his knees on a soft surface—pillow, couch cushion, mattress—but he’d pay for it the next day or the day after that, delayed muscle stress playing hell on his thighs and back, even his core, depending on how strenuous they’d gotten.

Usually, they made love on their sides, Steve spooned up tight behind Danny, making shallow thrusts at an angle precisely calculated to drag his cock over Danny’s prostate in agonizing slow motion…again…and again…and again until Danny was cursing through clenched teeth and in danger of popping a blood vessel.

Then, Steve would fasten his teeth around the muscle where Danny’s shoulder met his neck, bite down hard enough to leave a mark, and drive Danny home with a thrust as deep and hard as he could make it.

Danny would buck and swear, thrusting his aching cock into the sudden clutch of Steve’s reaching hand and would swear again, shuddering, as Steve spilled inside of him, his searing spend leaving Danny breathless and shivering, Steve mouthing at the minor wound he’d left and murmuring love words into his hair.

Later, as they cleaned up in the bathroom, Danny would complain about what an animal Steve was, and Steve would smile into the mirror over Danny’s head, staring hot-eyed at the mark he’d left, and Danny would grimace and pretend to be put out, but later, Steve would catch him touching the teeth-marks through his shirt, eyes fluttering closed.

For as good as it was between them in bed, the kitchen stools were a revelation.

Being eye to eye with Danny in their kitchen on a bright, warm morning, salt air and the susurrus of waves accompanying Danny’s easy complaining—about the dishes still in the sink from dinner last night, about Steve’s press conference that day with the other members of the governor-appointed state law enforcement oversight committee, about his driving—always and forever about his driving—well, it meant Steve could reach out a long arm and reel him in, shut him up, lips sticky with pancake syrup or sharp with the taste of fresh-squeezed orange juice, Danny’s words dying on his sweet tongue as he gave as good as he got, both of them panting and cocks a little interested when Steve pushed Danny back just far enough to snatch a pancake from his plate while Danny was recovering his breath.

Danny would sometimes give him a sudden smile then, a wicked look meant to drive Steve wild, and hip his way between Steve’s legs, spreading them just so, inviting himself into Steve’s space.

It meant Steve would have to change before leaving—late now—for his meeting, an unmistakable stain on his tie or a snail trail from Danny’s still-damp cock along what had been the perfectly pressed placket of his tailored suit pants, Steve’s lips a red ruin, his hair—what was left of it—a sweaty mess.

Steve never minded breaking the speed limit if it meant he’d had a few extra minutes in the kitchen with Danny.

He never minded breaking it even more getting home for the day, knowing Danny was probably going to offer himself as dessert when they finished clearing the supper dishes.

They never went hungry in their house, not for any of the things that sustained them, and though their bodies sometimes betrayed them, the flesh weak where the spirit still burned with a zealous willingness, Steve didn’t mind—too much.

Danny, for his part, was only glad that Steve had made it home after another day at work. Steve’s life as a part-time bureaucrat was still marred by his occasion foray into chasing down the bad guys himself. 

All in all, life was still good, still right, and if, now and then, one or the other of them had to take a breather, stand up or sit down or excuse himself for a bit, well, that was alright, too. 

They’d both learned long ago that life didn’t offer any guarantees, so they valued the time they had together, cricks in their necks, cracking joints, pains in their asses and all.


End file.
